Reflected in Those Mismatched Eyes
by StagnantLaziness
Summary: Harry Potter knows that he's a strange boy. He's different from the others. Leo knows that too. After all, he was him before he was Harry. Reincarnation-gone-wrong fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Gah. Okay, I never actually intended to write _another_ fic, I have enough on my plate as it is and it's nearing my final exams but this damn plot bunny won't leave me alone, it's been messing with my head for weeks! ;-;**

**Alright then, whatever happens, enjoy. Oh, and since I can't really force myself to make a long chapter, this will be drabble-like too. Maybe. Or maybe it will be sporadic, long or short, I dunno, but I'll try.**

**Disclaimer: Pandora Hearts and Harry Potter are not mine. I'm just borrowing their characters. **

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**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter is a very strange boy. He knows that.

Weird things always happen around him.

Like that time when he somehow transported himself to the roof to escape from Dudley and his gang in a Harry Hunting game, or that time he turned his hair electric blue.

His relatives were displeased with the unnatural occasions happening around him. Wait—scratch that, they seem to dislike him in general. No normal boy would live like he does, treated by his own family as if he is a disgusting leftover that rotted in their refrigerator.

Then again, he is not a normal boy.

But beyond that, he knows that there is something _more_ about him. Something odd and different and unnatural, like it's not supposed to be there.

He could tell, no other boys—normal or similar to him—can see golden lights scattered everywhere; warm and beautiful and ethereal, constantly keeping him company on lonely nights in his little cupboard.

No other boys can survive living without food, or drink for ten days, even more without feeling hungry or thirsty at all. He learned that when he accidentally ruined Uncle Vernon's favorite leather jacket. It is as if his body doesn't need any sustenance anymore.

No other boys have never get sick, because Harry _never_ gets sick at all. His injuries heal faster too.

No other boys have eyes like his. Heterochromia is somewhat normal, but his left eye is always changing colors, and there is a circular pattern inside it. Sometimes, it's black, then indigo, and dark purple. But there are always flecks of golden in it; as if it is reflecting the golden lights he sees everywhere.

His right one is the same shade of his mother's though. He remembers Aunt Petunia saying about it when she insulted him. _("You ruddy boy, you think batting your mother's pretty little green eye would get you out of this?")_

And lastly, there's no way that any other boys would have someone named Leo living in their head, claiming that he is the person Harry was before he became Harry.

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**Reviews would be awesome! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sobs. I tried making this longer, but it didn't work. T-T**

**Btw, thank you for all the favs, follows and reviews. I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter. :)**

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**Chapter 2**

Leo Baskerville is torn between laughing hysterically or breaking down in tears with the situation he is in. Whatever it was that he expects from his afterlife certainly isn't _this_.

No Glen Baskervilles are supposed to be in a situation like this.

Then again, he had always been the weird one. There's no reason that it would change now.

He was forcefully jarred into consciousness by the intrusion of a malevolent soul shard. Disoriented, unstable, and feeling threatened by its presence, he ripped into it with the ferocity of a madman, weakening it to the point of dormancy, almost devouring the whole thing.

And once again, his perception of the world was tilted upside down.

Memories assaulted him, feeding him knowledge of a world where the Abyss is unheard, where chains are non-existent, and where magic plays an important part in it.

He saw the life of Tom Marvolo Riddle, from his birth throughout his ascend in darkness as Lord Voldemort, up to the moment he cast a killing curse to one year old Harry James Potter.

Which, he assumes, is the owner of the soul he is in.

So in the end, Leo decides to laugh and laugh and _laugh_ until his hysterical laughter turns into sobs that wracks his whole body, because he doesn't know what he should do now.

The fact that he recognizes the soul he is inhabiting as his own does _not_ help matters.

There is one conclusion he manages to make from it. But he doesn't want to believe it, not really, no. Too many strange things has happened to him.

But he knows that it is true. He does not have a choice in the matter.

Leo Baskerville has been reincarnated as Harry James Potter.

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He never tries to create a contact with the child, nor does he want to. He isn't needed here, for Glen Baskerville does not exist in this world.

Besides, Leo has never been good with children. It was Elliot's forte.

But it seems that fate has other plans for him.

The child, Harry, seems to be having a dreadful nightmare. One of green lights and a woman who begged for his life. But Leo knows that it is more of a memory than a dream.

It is the memory of the night his parents died.

The mental strain of the memory is too much for the child, distressing him, and he unconsciously seeks for help. As such, Leo has no choice but to meet him.

He stands on the watery, rippling surface of the child's subconscious, waiting for the child's arrival. He is wearing the coat he wore as Glen, his stance as regal as ever.

He does not have to wait for long.

A pitter-patter of steps alerts him to the child's arrival, creating ripples on the subconscious' surface.

"H-hello? Where am I?" A high-pitched, childish voice calls out, uncertainty laced in it. He figures that it makes sense, the child should be about four or five years old now.

But the small figure that greets him somewhat shocks him into silence.

His eyes widens, raking upon the little, frail boy with messy, shoulder-length black hair—_malnourished, _he noted—wearing clothes too large for his size.

His eyes are obscured by long bangs, with round, thick-lensed glasses covering them. But in the light, he can clearly see mismatched emerald green and dark indigo eyes, flecks of gold scattered inside it.

Whatever that remains of his heart clenches.

The child is far too similar to him.

His reincarnation finally takes notice of him, watching him in both trepidation and awe. "Who are you?"

Leo sighs, wondering how he should explain all this to a five year old. He decides to be blunt with it.

"Believe it or not, Harry James Potter, I am the person who you used to be."

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